Torn pages
by Felidae1
Summary: Hey, the last three chapters of fluff are up! H&A face off(kinda)! Please R
1. Default Chapter

Uhh, I felt a little romantic the other day-or maybe I only ate too much sugar, I dunno…Anyways, here's a little fluff, centering on our favourite couple, Helga and Arnold. Be warned, this is all lovey-dovey. No great actions, no big fights, ect.

Disclaimer: None of this is mine-except the poetry, of course. The rest is all Craig Bartlett's…

Reviews: As many as humanly possible, pweeaase…

Archive. Go ahead, just tell me where!

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Torn pages 1. Inscriptions 

Sighing, Helga glanced at her beloved ones backhead. 

The blonde, unruly hair, the strangely shaped head, adorned by the small blue cap-for her, Arnold was the undisputed hunk of P.S.118, although she would have never admitted that openly(well, except to Phoebe, but she had figured it out already way past when).

Yet, with her fake bully persona, her inborn shyness and insecurities, Helga was sure, he would never even so much as waste a romantic or at least friendly thought towards her. 

Another sigh, this time one of utter despair, whispered past her lips, as she felt another poem come to her mind.

Taking out her pink book, she opened up the last page and-

"Crimney, I can't believe this! Full again, already?!?" she rasped, quietly enough, so no one could hear her.

Indeed, every single page had been filled with her heart-felt poetry, there was simply no space for one single small driplet of creativity. Grumbling, she tore an empty page from her notebook, and started writing.

Just as she finished the last verse, the bell rang, and everybody, including her, grabbed their books and stuff and headed for the door. In front of the lockers, Harold, Sid and Stinky were discussing moves for their next baseball game on Gerald field, when Arnold and Gerald joined them.

Helga, Phoebe and the other girls, who were standing by their own lockers, listened a moment to the boys gossip, until Helga cried:

"Crimney! With your tactics, it's no wonder, you lose every single game, Pink Boy!" 

Of course, Harold got offended by this, and soon both girls and boys were arguing with each other. They would have stood there all morning, if not for the bell.

Gasps, shrieks and screams were heard, as the whole group dispersed, each heading for their different classes. 

A sheet of white, blue-lined paper floated into Arnold's face, blocking his view. He tore the offending thing from his face and, shoving it between his own, sped for the biology class.

Sorting out her different files, folder, books and notes, Helga slowly but surely started to panic. 

Where could it be? She was sure, she had put it in her pink poetry book, but now, she couldn't find it. 

What if-no, the poetry book was here, so where-?

Helga's eyes went wide as saucers, as she remembered being and having pushed kids aside, to make it in time to her class.

With a loud moan, her head plopped on her desk. 

She had lost her latest poem, and, knowing her luck, somebody had found it.

'This isn't mine' thought Arnold, as he shifted through the papers spread on his desk.

Given, the notebook it had been torn off was standard school material, but the inscription wasn't.

In beautiful, clear handwriting, the following verses had been banned on the sheet by pencil: 

_So what_

_If all I can give you_

_Is my love_

_If all that stands for me_

_Are my vows_

_If all I can offer you_

_Is my soul_

_So what_

_If you don't know me_

_When I hide_

_Or don't see me_

_When I'm in plain sight_

_Or don't think of me_

_When I cry at night_

_So what_

_If your mind wanders_

_Whenever she's close_

_You give me a cold shoulder_

_And her the rose_

_Push me away_

_While pulling her close_

_So what_

_If I die, without you_

_Knowing the truth_

_If I spend all my days,_

_my nights and my youth_

_You don't see and don't care_

For the heart you uproot 

Arnold had the sudden urge, to hold, whoever wrote this, close, and never let go.

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Hmmm? No, I'm _not_ in love-it just came over me, ok? And if you don't stop accusing me, I'll stop continuing this story(just kidding^^)!


	2. Operation 'Flying Poet'

Ahh, yes, more fluff, as arnold finds Helga's newest poem-and makes a shocking discovery. 

So far, I'd like to thank all of you for your kind reviews, and don't worry, I'll finish this story(unlike the two dozen other ones, which are sitting on my harddrive…).

Now, on with the sweetness and the smiles…

Disclaimer: Chrrrr..zzzzz-huh? Wha-´Oh, standard..zzzz…

Reviews: Ah, how me love these!^^

Archive: anywhere, anytime, just tell me.

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2. Operation 'Flying Poet' 

"So, you think it was one of _our_ girls?" asked Gerald, as they rode the bus back home.

Arnold, nodded silently, letting his eyes wander over the poem again and again.

"Yeah, I'm sure, one of them lost it, because it flew into my face, right when everybody was scurrying for class."

"So?" 

"So? It's back to the lab, comparing writing styles, pencils, and so on."

"You mean, the same procedure like with the poetry book?"

"Yeah, the same procedure like-"Arnold froze mid-sentence.

"Gerald, that's it! The poetry book! I knew, I knew this writing style from somewhere! As soon as we get home, I want to see if  I'm right."

Two rows behind, Helga banged her head against the front seat in pure frustration. This was plain and simply _not_ happening.

Snarling, she turned to Phoebe and whispered:

"You. Me. Your room in twenty. We've _got_ to stop this!"

"Got it!" rasped Phoebe.

The two sheets of paper had been cut and strapped down on the holder, as a green eye scrutinized each of them thourougly.

"Dr. Gerald, please note: The big 'E', 'I' and 'S' are identical, and there is a nearly 100% match on the letters 'r', 'p', 'v', 'l' and 'z'." The tall-haired boy wrote along, then exchanged looks with his friend.

"You know, what this means, don't you?" asked Arnold. Gerald nodded.

"Yep. The 'Purple Poet' strikes again!"  Ever since the 'poetry book' incident, they had dubbed the anonymous writer with this nickname, due to the purple pen she was using.

Placing the sheet of paper on the table, Arnold reached for the poetry book, when-

"Hey, short-man! Phone for you!" Phil yelled from below. Rolling his eyes, Arnold shouted through the closed doors:

"Ok, grampa, I'll take it!"

Taking of the examination gloves, Arnold trudged to his phone, and, picking it up, motioned Gerald to take a seat.

"Yes?"

"Hey, Arnold, here's Phoebe! Listen, I'm calling because we-that is, Harold, Sid, Stinky, Nadine, Sheena, Eugene and Curly- are here at Gerald field, playing baseball, and we're missing another two players!" chirped Phoebe into her flip phone.

"Uhh, listen, Phoebe, this is really not a good moment, we're kind of busy. Why don't you ask some of the other kids?"

"I did, but you know Rhonda, she would never let any mud touch her original _Gabbi_ sneakers, Lila is busy helping her father, and Helga got into a fight with her father, and is grounded for the day."

Phoebe was happy that Arnold couldn't see her, since she had gone beet red while lying. 

Truth was, that Helga was sitting in the alleyway, two streets from the boarding house, waiting for her to phone back and give her the sign to launch her attack, as it were.

In his room, Arnold gave in, telling Gerald the news, and post-poning their tests until later.

"Oh, thanks, guys, I'm sure, we all are going to enjoy this wonderful afternoon of game and fun!" tweeted Phoebe, then excused herself and hang up. Turning towards the others, she announced Arnold's and Gerald's soon arrival.

Some cheers, a couple of  thumbs up and a stray 'boo' where her answer.

"So, Nadine says to Sheena;' but you can't wear that to Rhonda's party! You'll get banned for life!'"

Both boys laughed at Gerald's tale, crossing the street and rounding the corner, never noticing the dark figure lurking behind the trashcans.

Impatently, Helga waited for her flip phone to ring, five, eight, ten minutes, until-

Rrrt-click"Yeah?" she snarled.

"Mighty eagle? Here is Earthworm! _Ice cream_ and _Top Hats _are melting in the sun!" whispered Phoebe.

"Excellent!" grinned Helga. That was her signal, that both Gerald and Arnold were busy pitching and stealing bases.

"Mighty eagle, over and out!" She rose, let the phone slip into her pocket, then ran all the way to the boarding house, allways making sure, to stay out of sight of anybody, who might have noticed her. Once there, she began climbing the fire ladder, until she reached the roof.

She was so busy avoiding any noise, she never noticed the clouds gather above her, her mind was only on the task of stealing the poem and her poetry book back from Arnold, before he found out, they were hers. 

And this time, she swore herself, she would succeed!

Stealthily, she ran from chimney to chimney, until she was standing behind the one closest to Arnold's highlight.

Rubbing her hands, she mumbled:

"Perfect! While these two goons are busy making fools of themselves, I have all the time in the world, to retrieve all evidence of my obsession. My plan is absolutely flawless! Ahahahahahahahahahaaa!"

PLIP! A single drop of water exploded on the tip of her nose.

Helga looked up, only to be hit by a second one in the center of her unibrow.

The soft sound of cascading water made her frown.

"Great", she snarled,"it's raining." Then blue eyes widened in horror, as realization hit her.

"Aaaaaahhhhh! They're going to break up the game!"

Rushing towards the closed window, Helga nearly fainted, when her phone rang. Squeezing it between shoulder and chin, she started fumbling with the lock.

"What?" she yelled, half panicked, half mad. Phoebes faint voice replied hastily:

"Mighty Eagle, here Earthworm! The chicken are coming home to roost! I repeat, the chicken are coming-"

"I know, I _know_!" screamed Helga, rattling at the glass door-and giving a surprised sqeaul, when it actually opened, and she fell into thin air.

WHOOMP-A! The soft cushions on Arnold's bed stopped her fall, as she hit it with her back first. Unluckily, the springs catapulted her in a front flip off the matress, as she tore off the sheets in a feeble attempt to stop her forwards motion.

With a loud thud, Helga connected with the floor. For a moment, all seemed to wobble, then her eyes focused on the desk.

Or rather, on the Erlenmeyer that was standing next to the edge, and about to topple over.

A loud gasp, a head start and a desperate slide saved the glass from shattering into a thousand pieces.

Sighing, Helga rose and placed the Erlenmeyer back on the table-just before her jaw fell.

Obviously, her left shoe had gone astray whilst her landing, and not only knocked over the numerous test tubes, but also hit the staple of papers and crib notes, spraying them all over the floor.

Hastily, Helga tried to rearrange everything, when she saw her poem sticking out from under another page. Grabbing it, she stuffed it under her shirt, even as her eyes roamed the room for her poetry book. She frowned, when she saw the mess she left on the bed, and quickly started to straighten it out, as good as she could. Just when she was about to finish, she heard the housedoor below slam closed, as two very familiar footsteps came tumbling up the stairs.

Frantically, she looked around for any trace of evidence she might have lost, noticed her left shoe and dashed for it.

There was no time to look for the pink book, so she rushed up the stairs to the roof, fought a moment with the highlight, and fell out on the rainy roof. She sprung up, closed the lock from outside, and shot towards the ladder. 

Always taking two steps at once, she slipped and fell two stores down-into the open container.

The lid closed with a loud bang, even as three floors above a door was swung open. 

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Hehehehee, don't you just _loove_ cliff-hangers. Don't worry, I'll be back soon..maybe…^^


	3. Printed proof

Oh my, hehehee, looks like I caused quiet a reaction with my little cliffhanger there-don't worry folks, for now I'm back ,with more. But first things first, and that's a huge big smoochie to all of you, who reviewed-SMOOOOOOOOOCHH!

Well, now that we have caught or breath, let's go on and see, what Helga,Arnold, Gerald, Phoebe and Co. are up to…^^

Disclaimer: Everything isn't mine, except the poem, so hande with care..

Reviews: just keep 'em flowing, folks..^^

Archive: Sure. Where?

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_3. Printed proof_

"And another victory down the drain, literally!" moaned Gerald, as he stepped in behind Arnold, shaking the water from his hair. His tirade came to a sudden halt, as he bumped into his best friend, who had stopped dead in his tracks.

"Gerald, somebody broke into my room!" rasped the blonde boy, as he ran towards the desk, checking all the papers and drawers, until he found the pink book. Wiping some sweat and rain from his brow, he huffed.

"Phew! Good luck, the evidence is still here."

Walking in, Gerald closed the door behind him, and stepped beside Arnold.

"Man, Arnold, who would try to steel something from you, dude? I mean, it's not like you're rich ore something, right?"

He looked at Arnold, who wore a pensive and serious expression.

"There's something missing."

Having escaped the container, Helga ran through the pouring rain towards her home. Three streets away, she slipped into an alley, pressed herself into the shadows, and, after making sure, no one could see her, she pulled the white, lined sheet from inside her shirt.

Placing a heart-felt kiss of glee on the wet paper, she sighed in relief, as her eyes traveled over the page.

"Ok, I didn't get the poetry book, but at least I got my poem back, and there's no more evidence to-_Tucker's drugstore and copyshop?!?" _

Bright blue eyes stared in disbelief at the tiny emblem in the left lower corner of the page.

And then a desperate scream sailed across the grey afternoon sky, very much like the wail of a lost soul.

Rubbing his tired eyes, Gerald turned to Arnold, and stated:

"Listen, now we collected and compared about two dozen fingerprints, and they all belong to one and the same person-well, aside of ours, that is. Whatcha say, we continue sorting out the rest of the evidence tomorrow, when we're up and awake?"

Blinking, Arnold nodded, even as her turned off the lamp standing on his desk.

"Ok, Gerald, I think, you're right. Just let me lock this stuff someplace safe."

"Fine, you do that, Arnold. See ya tomorrow." 

Exchanging their secret handshake, the two boys said good-bye, and then Gerald was gone.

Yawning, Arnold slipped out of his pullover and shirt, pulled back the blankets on his bed-

and stared in disbelief at the dark, muddy, grey-brown splotch on his white linen sheet.

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Now, what could that be, huh? Well turn the page(as it were) and read on!


	4. Tracking down the suspect

What, another chapter, you may ask-hey, I had three days to think about this story, while tending to my own love life(the non-existent one, that is..^^) 

I guess, you all are wondering, how Helga is going to worm her way out of this one. Well, we'll see..

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_4. Tracking down the suspect_

Her scowl was deeper than usual, as Helga G. Pataki made her way across the school yard. This was not a good morning, not only did she have a couple of bruises in places, she'd rather not mention, but her whole action had been an utter failure.

Just how could she have been so stupid, as to mistake the copy for her original? 

And with the traces she left, Arnold would surely count two and two together, and-

stand at the corner, staring at the pupils feet?

Confused, Helga shook her head, taking a moment to admire her secret love, before she let her usual frown mask her face, 

as she made her way towards the main enrty.

"Outta my way, geek-bait! Shove it, dork! And just what the _heck_ are _you_ staring at, football-head?!?" she bellowed, as she build herself up in front of Arnold, trying her best to appear intimidating, although she felt like faltering and swooning at his surprised, and slightly scared, expression.

"Uh, no-nothing, really, Helga, just, you know, looking around and stuff…" he muttered. His eyes were wide as saucers.

Helga snorted in disgust, and, shoving him aside, growled:

"Yeah, well, suit yourself, Arnoldo!"

Holding her head high and stomping down the hall, she continued her usual ritual of bullying every kid unlucky enough to cross her path.

Had she glanced back, she would have seen Arnold kneeling down, and laying a sheet of paper next to where she had stood, mere moments before…

Trudging her way towards her house, Helga pondered, how she could evade Bob's yelling tonight, when a hand shot out of the dark, grabbed her wrist and pulled her into an alley. Before she had a chance to scream, a small, yet strong hand covered her mouth, and an all too familiar voice hushed into her ear:

"Shh, it's ok, Helga, it's just me."

Freeing herself from her would-be kidnapper's grasp, she stared in bafflement at Arnold, his relaxed, half-lidded glare meeting her own fear-widened.

"Are you out of your freaking mind, football-head? You nearly gave me a heart attack there, you stupid goof! What's the big idea, huh? Are you trying to scare me to death, doofus?" Helga screeched, trying to cover her fear and insecurity with anger.

Arnold let her rant for a while, then, when she had quited down a little, he replied cooly:

"We need to talk. Let's go to the park."

Frowning, she rested her hands on her hips.

"And just what makes you think, that I would go with _you_ to the park, Arnoldo?"

He pursed his lips, as he held up a sheet of white paper, with an odd-shaped spot in the center.

"Do you know, what this is, Helga?" he asked. She blinked a few times, before she growled:

"A Rohrschach-test?" 

"This, my dear, is a footprint." Rolling her heyes, Helga huffed:

"Oh, wow, the football-head joined the Police Academy. What are you up to now, some kind of detective game, or what?"

Giving a slight, knowing smile, Arnold continued:

"Well as a matter of fact, I, or rather we, did do some criminalistic research, since this is only the copy of the footprint. I gave a second copy to Gerald, we compared it with all other ones we saw, and guess what: we had a 100% match with yours."

"Oh, doi!" snorted Helga, as she crossed her arms over her chest.

Another half-lidded look was sent her way, as Arnold replied:

"Oh, didn't I mention, that the original of this footprint was found yesterday on my bedsheet?"

Blue eyes went big as dishes, as the comment sunk in.                                                                                                      

With a small, confident smirk, he turned around, as she tried to come up with an reasonable answer .

Several moments, all was quiet, then Arnold offered:

"How about that walk in the park now, Helga?"

Nodding feebly, she followed him.

The end 

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Just kidding, just kidding, of course, I _will_ finish this story-I only wanted to ruffle your feathers, as it were…^^


	5. Pencils and purple ink

Well, this is it, my dears. The last chapter of this sweet little story. I would like to thank all of you, who stuck with me so far, and hope to see you all in some of my other stories, for I won't stop writing anytime soon, that's for sure.

Take care, have fun, be nice to people, and try to be a little truer to yourselves-it's harder, than many might think…

C ya, Ja ne, and auf Wiedersehen!^^ 

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_5. Pencils and purple ink_

The first hint of fall lay in the air, as the green leaves, which were slowly turning yellow, flittered in the afternoon sun.

A flaxen-haired boy wearing a small, blue cap walked next to a girl sporting long, golden pigtails and a big, pink bow.

Finally, they arrived at a secluded park bench, where they both took place. 

Some minutes passed, without either one of them speaking, until the boy broke to silence.

"So?"

"So what?" growled the girl back. A sigh escaped the boy's throath.

"So, are you going to tell me why you broke into my house, or do I have to guess?"

"Try your best, football-he-"

She swallowed the insult, when she saw, what Arnold pulled out of his shirt. 

Outwardly, she remained cool, uninterested, but inside, her soul was screaming in despair, as her heart pounded in senseless fear. Even if she would have wanted, she could not have moved a muscle, for she was frozen in shock.

Instead, she only stared at him, hoping the earth would open up and swallow her whole.

What else could she do, when he held her pink poetry book?

"You know, when I first found this, I was rather..freaked, to tell you the truth. Here was somebody, loving me so much, that they dedicated a whole book filled with poetry to me. They seemed to know everything about me, and I didn't even knew their name. That was somewhat scary, and it made me quiet nervous."

"Uh-huh. And how did you get past the paranoia?" Even in her own ears, her voice sounded weak and defensive.

"Well, my grandfather pointed out, that it must be great, to know, that somebody out there loves you so much, they would write poems about you. That made me proud-well, actually, it gave my ego a real boost."

A slight, guitly snicker, and Helga's already weakened defenses crumbled even more.

"However, it didn't stop me from finding out who the writer was, if at all, I tried harder than before, to find my secret admirer. Needless to say, I never found her."

He looked up.

"Until now."

A hand snaked over the battered wood of the bench, to come to rest upon hers.

She looked down, confused, but before she could pull her hand away, she heard him ask:

"Is there anything, you'd like to tell me, Helga?" 

Blue-green eyes sparkled in amusement, as his grandfather told the ten-years old boy, how he had found his most-feared female rival to be the love of his life.

Shaking his blonde, unruly hair, the boy smirked.

"Heh, so history _does_ repeat itself, huh?" 

"And I wouldn't have it any other way!" exclaimed his grandmother, as she entered with a huge bowl of vanilla-watermelon-bubble-gum ice cream in one hand, and four plates in the other one.

Her husband gave her a loving glance, as she set dessert and utensils on the table, even as a girl of about the same age as the boy came rushing in, balancing several napkins and glasses on a tray. With a small gasp, she managed to place her fragile load on the table, then took a step back, struck a pose, and yelled:

"Ta-dahh, and everybody gices standing ovations to Hel, princess of jugglers!"

"Rather princess of yokels, if you ask me", muttered the boy under his breath, only to face a small, but firm fist, and two piercing, blue eyes, adorned by a furrowed unibrow.

"Take that back, or I'll make you choke on your words, doofus!"

"Make me!" cried the boy, as he shot from his chair and out the kitchen, the girl hot on his tracks.

Smiling, the couple watched them disappear, then the old man looked in silent admiration at his wife, and whispered:

"I love you, Helga."

"So do I, Arnold, so do I."

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And yes, if anybody might ask: they boy and the girl arguing at the end, _are_ Helga and Arnold's grand-children…


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